


The Fix Is In

by Ladytalon



Category: Watch Dogs (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attraction, Crimes & Criminals, F/M, Family Issues, First Meetings, Flirting, Humor, Meet-Cute, Pre-Relationship, Slice of Life, Surprises, am i kidding or not?, goat sacrifice mention, pre-game, you'll have to read this to find out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:53:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25233445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladytalon/pseuds/Ladytalon
Summary: Michelle Zhaou has moved from LA to Chicago looking for work, and her cousin Jordi Chin happens to have the perfect job for her.
Relationships: Damien Brenks/OFC
Kudos: 1





	The Fix Is In

**Author's Note:**

> Showing up to the fandom (and the meme) 6 years late with Starbucks, it's your girl Lady T looking at Dumb Damien Brenks with HEART EYES. He's the best and you cannot change my mind.

“ _Southbound train arriving shortly_.” 

The recorded announcement rings out just as she reaches the steps, and she can hear the whine of the brakes as the L pulls into the station. Michelle grips her purse tightly and charges up the steps past someone who clearly isn’t in a hurry. The doors are still open as she reaches the top and runs to the turnstile, digging blindly for her new Ventra card. 

It’s not there.

“Oh, no. No, no, _no_ ,” she gasps. She can’t be late; not today. “Oh my fucking _god_!”

Michelle tries to catch the eye of the attendant, who seems to be engrossed in an incoming text message. She’s forced to step aside for someone coming up behind her, and is close to hyperventilating when a man walking from the other set of turnstiles glances over.

Great. Now she’s some kind of sideshow attraction and- “C’mon,” he says, swiping his own card for her. 

The turnstile unlocks and she pushes forward, close to tears. “Thank you,” Michelle breathes. He gives a disinterested grunt and turns away to board the train with a stiff, limping motion. She slips through the doors just as the closing chime sounds and finds a seat, still shaken by her brush with disaster.

It takes a few minutes for her to control her breathing, then Michelle looks through her purse until she finds the damned card trapped between a receipt and a piece of junk mail. Equilibrium restored, she locates the man across the car and works her way over to him.

Her savior is sitting with a laptop balanced on his knees, typing something as he frowns at the screen. “Hi,” she says. “Is this seat taken?”

He looks up at her, then over at the indicated seat. “No,” the man says shortly.

“Oh. Great,” Michelle says, dropping her purse on the floor and sitting down across from him. “I’m Michelle.”

He looks up again. “Congratulations,” he says, lowering his eyes back to the laptop.

“You really saved my ass back there – I can’t thank you enough.”

“Just once was fine,” the man points out, still intent on whatever he’s doing. 

Michelle has met so many people just like this; cynical, deliberately unfriendly and determined to make their bad day everyone else’s problem. Yet, he could have easily ignored her when she needed help…and he hadn’t. She’s going to make sure the feeling of thankfulness and hope in her heart is _his_ problem, damnit! “So… you seem like you’re good with computers,” she tries again.

He looks up at her and all previous signs of bored disinterest are wiped away when he smiles. “There’s no one better.”

“Self-esteem doesn’t seem to be an issue, either,” Michelle teases. “So, do you usually take the L at the same time every morning?”

The man’s eyes narrow slightly. “Why.”

“I’d like to pay you back for helping me. I found my card, isn’t that crazy?” 

She holds it up to show him, promptly drops it, and he relaxes enough to laugh. “You might want to put that in a safe place.”

“No kidding…oh, no,” Michelle says as she bends to grab it and a sudden vibration of the train car sends the damned thing sliding right up against his boot. “Sorry.”

He leans over, and she abruptly realizes why it had seemed like he was limping earlier – there’s a thick metal brace encasing his leg from his left thigh all the way down to his foot. “Here,” he says, holding out her card, and Michelle can see that he’s caught her staring from the way his face has so completely closed off. 

She takes the card back. “Thanks.” His eyes drop back to whatever he’d been doing on his computer, and there’s suddenly nothing left for her to say.

Michelle’s phone buzzes and she gets it out, thankful for the distraction. _You’re late_ , the text message reads.

Oh, please. There’s plenty of time now that she managed to catch the train. _**Give me a fucking break. I’m right on time, asshole, and you know it**_.

_I stand corrected. ETA?_

_**The same as it always was?** _

_Fine. Meet me when you get to the station…and watch your language_.

“Fuck you,” Michelle tells the phone, tossing it back in her purse. “Oh! Not you,” she adds hurriedly as she realizes that the man sitting across from her has looked up again. “I’m starting a new job today, working for my cousin – he is _such_ a pain in the ass.”

“Family can be like that.” The compartment rocks again as the train starts to slow down, and he slips the laptop into his backpack before he stands up carefully, swinging his left leg wide to gain the momentum to get out of the seat. “Good luck.”

She stands, too, and offers him another smile as she moves towards the doors. “Thanks again.”

Her cousin is waiting just below the platform, parked in a gleaming red Centaurus 550S. “Nice of you to show up,” he says as she opens the passenger door and slides in.

“Fuck off, Jordi,” she says cheerfully. “What are we doing today?”

“ _I_ am going to shoot at least one person in the back of the head. Or the front of it. Who knows? _You_ will be doing a chop-shop run and shadowing Angelo while he’s in charge of Cars On Demand,” Jordi says, checking his mirrors before pulling out onto the street. “How long has it been since you last stole a car?”

Michelle adjusts the seat, tucking her purse beneath it. “I prefer the term _borrowed_. I borrowed a car two days ago.”

“So your skills are fresh – that’s good,” he says approvingly. “We’ll get your record wiped from CtOS by the end of the week.”

“At the _end_ of the week?”

“What, you thought you’d get a free pass ‘cause we’re family? Come on, Mickey. You know me better than that,” Jordi chides. 

“As long as you know _me_ well enough not to mention that we’re related, we’re good.”

Her cousin laughs. “The instant I show up with you, they’re all going to think we’re related anyway.”

“That’s because you work with racist pieces of shit…and I’m about to work with them, too.” Oh, joy. Well, a job’s a job and as long as it’s not anywhere near Los Angeles it’s just fine with her. “So…Cars On Demand, huh? What is that, a ride-share program?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes. There will be times when the car’s owner doesn’t realize they’re sharing it,” Jordi says as they turn into a used car lot. “Nothing you can’t handle.” His tone suggests that she’d better be able to handle it, and Michelle gets a chilling glimpse of the ruthless fixer that Jordi’s clients and victims have encountered over the years. She’d say that he doesn’t scare her, but that would be a lie – sometimes, her cousin can be downright terrifying.

They’ve always had a close relationship, however. Jordi _probably_ wouldn’t hurt her, but better to be safe than sorry. “When it comes to cars, I’m the best.”

“Let’s hope so.”

“Don’t be a dick,” she counsels, making him laugh.

Her first day is a hectic one, designed to push Michelle to her limits, but she’s determined to rise to the challenge. If she can make it in LA, she can make it anywhere – Chicago is nothing but a speed bump. Michelle acquires eleven different cars of various makes and models, delivering them to a handful of Militia and Club-owned chop-shops and getting the hell out of there whenever some asshole decides that he wants to be overly friendly. They’ll learn eventually, but for now she’s got a schedule _and_ a job to keep.

Angelo does indeed ask if she’s related to Jordi, gesturing at the corners of his own eyes while he does it, but backs down when all Michelle gives him is a cold stare in return. He offers grudging respect once he sees how capable she really is; she doesn’t see them ever becoming best friends, but they’ll be able to work together. Jordi doesn’t come around to check on her.

She’s bone tired as she trudges down the steps of the station in Mad Mile; she hasn’t seen her new friend from the morning’s train but then again, she hadn’t really been expecting to.

Her apartment, a dinky sublet affair that’s just a _little_ bit bigger than a broom closet, is good enough for now. Once Michelle starts moving up the ladder, she might go for something out by Parker Square…or even the Loop.

Maybe she’ll get a place in both, if her luck continues to hold.

Michelle makes herself dinner, which turns out to be canned pasta, and falls asleep in front of the television.

In the morning she showers quickly and heads off to the L, grabbing a coffee on the way. She’s there in plenty of time and wanders around the platform aimlessly as she waits; she’s almost forgotten to look for her mystery man when Michelle spots him leaning against one of the columns, scrolling through his phone. Today he’s wearing a slouchy knit hat pushed back on his head, jeans, and a dark blue fisherman’s sweater in deference to the cold wind.

“Hello again,” she says, and watches the severe lines of his face soften slightly as he glances up to see her. It’s technically _down_ because she’s so much shorter than he is, though. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

“Better than being stuck in traffic on the bridge,” the man tells her, tucking his phone into his back pocket. “How was your first day?”

“Horrific. I got thrown into the deep end, but I think I did okay.” Michelle is surprised to find herself feeling… _fluttery_ inside when he smiles at her – which he’s doing right now. _What the hell?_ She hadn’t even noticed his goatee yesterday, or how blue his eyes are. She likes blue eyes. And goatees. “How was _your_ day? Any firsts, or just business as usual?”

“I was busy with my fiendish plans of world domination so…yeah, just a normal day.” 

Michelle eases herself closer. “So, what do you do? When you’re not taking over the world, I mean.”

“I guess you could say that I work in the tech field. You?”

“I…work in the automotive industry.”

“Let me guess; mechanic?”

She laughs. “Yeah, you got me.”

“I knew it,” he teases. 

“ _Southbound train arriving shortly,”_ the PA system blares.

They make small talk as the train heads to their mutual stop and Michelle glances at the doors when she starts to feel the train decelerate. “I can’t remember if I mentioned it or not, but my name-”

“-is Michelle,” he finishes for her. “You mentioned it.”

“Oh. Well, you never mentioned yours,” she says, feeling more than a little flustered that he’d actually remembered.

The train stops and the doors slide open. “Damien.”

“As in… The Omen? That Damien?”

“You know? That’s exactly what my ex-wife would say,” he laughs. “Have a good day at work, Michelle.” Damien walks off, and she’s left wondering exactly what she’s doing.

It doesn’t mean anything; they’ve only known each other for two days…not that they ‘know’ each other at all. They’re just two strangers being friendly, Michelle tells herself firmly. It doesn’t matter how attractive she thinks he is; he could be an axe murderer, for all she knows. What she _does_ know is that she doesn’t have time for this – she’s in Chicago to work, not play. But a little flirting never hurt anyone…right?

Her second day is markedly less hectic than her first, only involving Cars On Demand; business is slow there, too, so Michelle spends most of her time organizing the inventory and altering VIN information in the database. Jordi stops by to take her out to lunch, which is nice…and discuss the details of his most recent job, which is _not_. “I’ll need you to be in charge of picking up the vehicle and dropping it off to be cleaned,” he says calmly. “It’s in the Wards. Try not to attract unnecessary attention.”

She’s not entirely sure why he hasn’t just dealt with it while he was still there, but knows better than to ask. “Just give me an address and I’ll get it done. What constitutes ‘unnecessary’ attention? I assume you don’t mean police.”

Jordi pats his napkin against the corners of his mouth. “You assume correctly. Haven’t you read the news? We’ve got a vigilante on the loose,” he says, clearly amused by something. “By the way, those VIN numbers are getting thrown out of the system as fast as we can make them – Blume must’ve sent through an update when we weren’t looking, which means we’ll have to outsource this batch.”

“Should I keep adding to the database, then, if it’s not working out?”

Her cousin gazes out the restaurant’s windows thoughtfully. “Here’s what we’ll do. You keep adding them offline and at the end of the week, we can get the system updated when you meet up with Brenks. Our resident computer whiz ran afoul of those militia idiots last week, so we’re doing a trade for services – Brenks needs some work done and he’ll wipe your biometrics from CtOS in exchange. You’ll be in charge of sweet-talking him into doing the VIN uploads for free.”

“I’m not sleeping with anyone just to-”

“Relax, will you?” Jordi interrupts with a laugh. “You don’t have to sleep with anyone. After what happened to him last year I doubt he’s even able to do more than give you a dirty look; don’t worry about it. Worst case scenario, you could flirt a little – he’ll eat it right up.”

“If you say so,” she says dubiously.

“I do, Mick. Don’t _worry_.” Jordi laughs again, shaking his head. “ _Sleep_ with him…!”

“It was a perfectly legitimate concern.”

“Sure, sure.”

Michelle makes the drive to the Wards after finishing her lunch and stopping by the hostess station to pick up the check before Jordi realizes what she’s doing. It’s not the best of neighborhoods so she keeps an eye out for trouble.

The car is still where Jordi had told her it would be, parked in a small lot behind a crumbling apartment building. His caution about ‘unnecessary attention’ becomes clear when, upon approaching the dented two-door sedan, she gets a whiff of it. Michelle gags and covers her mouth with her hand, eyes watering as she gets closer – there’s no way that Jordi could have left it like this, which means he’d put down the person who _had_.

The stench (and the flies) seem to be centered around the trunk, which Michelle is absolutely not going to open. A quick glance around shows that she seems to be alone and unobserved, so she calls up the GPS on her phone and plugs in the address of the ‘cleaners’ she’s meant to deliver this mess to.

She’ll need to drive it to Brandon Docks which isn’t _too_ far.

Thank god.

After scrutinizing the map a little bit more to see what shortcuts she could possibly take, Michelle quickly gets the door open and slides into the driver’s seat once she slips on a pair of disposable gloves and covers the seat with a plastic bag. 

The smell is even more overpowering once she’s inside and she retches several times before she gets the deathmobile started. Michelle rolls the windows down and pulls out onto the street, hoping that the cold and mildly fresh air will make the drive more tolerable.

There is one particularly heart-stopping moment when a police cruiser pulls up next to her at a traffic light and she watches out of the corner of her eye as she prays that neither of the officers can smell her putrid cargo through the closed doors. The people walking by on the sidewalk certainly can, and Michelle is uncomfortably aware of their exclamations of disgust.

She’s feeling limp with relief and sweaty despite the cold weather when she finally reaches her destination, parking in the appointed area and cleaning up any incriminating evidence as fast as she can. Her phone rings as she’s glancing around for signs to the closest railway station. “ _Is it done?”_ Jordi asks her.

“It’s fucking disgusting, Jordi, is what it is. Was your hit in that trunk?” Michelle demands, hurrying across the street. “You couldn’t have fucking _warned_ me?”

“ _I did warn you and no, that’s not one of mine,”_ her cousin says.

She needs a shower. No, she needs five _separate_ showers. “Then what – or _who_ \- was in that car?”

_“One of the Club, presumably. He went missing near Rossi-Fremont a week ago, and magically wound up in a Viceroy car. Pawnee militia needed a distraction…so we just gave them a big one.”_

“I didn’t sign up for shit like this, Jordi.”

He laughs, sounding like he doesn’t have a care in the world. “ _We all do shit we never signed up for, Mickey. That’s just life.”_

“I mean it. You brought me in to drive, not kickstart a gang war. Pull another stunt like this, and we’re done.”

“ _You’re blowing this out of proportion, Mick. Tell you what; take the rest of the day off, get a pedicure or something. There’s a great place out in Parker Square. I’ll text you the address.”_ The line goes dead, and Michelle throws the phone into her purse angrily. _Fuck!_

The next three days pass in a blur that doesn’t include seeing Damien at the L platform…which is a shame, because Michelle could use seeing a friendly face even if it’s only for ten minutes at a time. Maybe it’s for the best, though. He’d seemed like such a nice, _normal_ guy who definitely doesn’t need someone like her around. 

Jordi hasn’t apologized to her, which is typical, but she senses that he won’t try something like that again now that he knows she won’t stand for it. Everyone else they work with is cautiously respectful around Jordi, like he’s the Fixer King or something – they’re too afraid of him to ever object.

She’s returning from a car drop-off when Angelo jogs up to her. “Hey, Michelle? Jordi’s in the back office with that hacker; he wanted you to bring the VIN list.”

Ugh. She’d almost forgotten that she’s supposed to flirt with the creep. “Thanks, Angelo.”

“Sure thing. How’d it go?”

“They ordered a _news van_. Who does that?”

“Bible Thumper, maybe? Easy way to spread the good news,” Angelo says. “I’ve gotta deliver a Boxberg out by the piers, so you might need to lock up when you leave.”

“Sure, no problem.”

Michelle stops at the front desk to retrieve the USB drive holding all the necessary information, tucking it in her coat pocket as she heads back to rear office. Pushing the door open, she steps inside. “Hey, I brought the list that you…wanted…” her voice trails off into silence as the man talking to Jordi turns around. “Damien?” It’s Damien. _L Train_ Damien.

He seems equally astonished to see her there. “Michelle.”

Jordi is looking back and forth between them. “Should I yell, ‘Janet!’ now? You two _know_ each other?”

Michelle feels her cheeks start to burn. “When you said you worked in the tech field, I thought it meant you were a part of the Best Buy Geek Squad. Not… _this_.”

Damien is still staring at her. “You’re a fixer. Huh.” He looks over at Jordi. “That’d make _you_ …”

“Make me what?” Jordi challenges.

“An asshole,” Damien finishes, winking at Michelle. “Okay, she’s here; let’s do business. What d’you want?”

Jordi looks at him, then back at Michelle. “I can’t have CtOS picking her up. Since you two seem to be friendly, I’m sure we can renegotiate-”

“Ah, ah.” Damien tsks, waggling a finger. “That’s not how it works, my friend. What we can _renegotiate_ is for whatever else you’re trying to sweet talk me into… so let’s hear it.”

Her cousin looks at her meaningfully and Michelle steps forward, still feeling like she’s having an out of body experience. _He’s just another client_ , she tells herself. “The new VIN information isn’t staying in the system, and I... _we_ have a week’s worth of numbers that need to go out.”

Damien’s eyes flick down to the holster that she’s forgotten was even visible beneath her unzipped jacket. “I’ll need someone for field work,” he tells Jordi. “She’ll do fine.”

“Her services are not on the table.”

“They are, or I walk.”

“You mean, _limp_ ,” Jordi says drily.

“Real cute, Jordi. One job for each number,” Damien says. 

Jordi sighs and shakes his head. “Did those fixers crack your skull, along with the rest of you? One for fifteen.”

“As precious as this little pissing contest is, boys, you’re forgetting that I’m _right here_. One for five,” Michelle says, wanting to get Jordi out of there so that she can corner Damien and find out what the hell is going on. 

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” Damien agrees, waving her off when she tries to hand him the USB drive. “I don’t need that; just show me to your computer and I’ll get it done before I leave.”

It takes forever, but Jordi finally goes away and they’re left alone. “So…the automotive industry, huh?”

“Whatever you say, Geek Squad,” Michelle says, making him wince. “The computer’s just out here.”

Damien settles into the chair she usually sits in, glancing over his shoulder at her. “I can’t believe he’s your _cousin_.”

“I can’t believe you’re the hacker.”

“What did you expect, a greasy teenager with ripped jeans and dirty shoes?” He starts typing something, pausing to take his phone out and set it beside the keyboard.

Yes. “No,” she lies, watching the corners of his eyes crinkle. “Okay, _maybe_. Who are you, really?”

He extends his hand. “Damien Brenks, at your service.”

She takes it, and tingles shoot up her arm. “Michelle Zhaou.” She releases his hand, curling her fingers into her palm tightly. “Did you…did you hack my phone, or anything, on Monday?”

Damien turns away, accessing the files containing the VIN information and taps something on his phone. “Contrary to popular belief, I _have_ been known to mind my own business from time to time. I did it Tuesday.”

“You did not,” Michelle argues. “Something tells me you don’t usually ride the L, either.”

“I was curious about your first day – you were pretty worked up about being late…and this is done, so let’s move on to erasing you from the system. I’ll need access to the nearest CtOS tower.” Damien turns to look up at her. “How are you at climbing?”

“Mount Everest is out of the question, but a chain-link fence is nothing I can’t handle.”

They take his car, and she gets to have the novel experience of sitting on the passenger side for the first time in what feels like forever. Michelle doesn’t think that Damien looks that comfortable with his left leg bent like that, but they’re not really at the point in their relationship that she can ask him about it…they’re kind of still working through the revelation that they’re both criminals.

Damien points out the tower, driving around the block slowly to let her get a good look at it before he parks on the side of the street. He hands her an earpiece and a phone. “This is the closest unmanned location, so you shouldn’t run into anyone once you get up there. There’ll be some barbed wire in the antenna’s enclosure, but I’ll walk you through the steps to get you past the door.”

“What happens if I _do_ run into someone?”

“‘Run’ is the operative word here,” Damien points out. “I’ll trigger a scan when you get close. Good luck.”

Michelle puts on the earpiece and gets out of the car, walking across the street. “Implying that I need luck doesn’t exactly inspire confidence.”

“ _You’ll be fine, I promise,”_ Damien says. “ _Do you always work at that particular location?”_

She tucks the phone in the inside pocket of her coat and gets a running start, pushing off from a pile of wooden pallets and grasping the lower edge of the roof. Scrambling up, Michelle looks around to plan her next move. “I’ve been there all week, but something tells me I’ll be moonlighting at the other locations soon.”

“ _I’m sure that’s the case. You seem very competent.”_

“And you would know…how?”

His low laughter causes tingles to ricochet along her spine. “ _Let’s just say that I have a feeling about you.”_

She carefully skirts the edge of the next fence, selecting the right place to climb over so that she won’t have to worry about her footing when she crosses back. “Speaking of feelings…you mentioned you were divorced. What’s the story there?”

“ _Not much of a story at all. It didn’t work out,_ ” Damien tells her.

“Oh? Why not?”

“ _The age-old story of boy meets girl, boy marries girl, girl finds out that boy is a career criminal. The usual.”_

“I’m sorry.”

“ _So it **was** your fault_!”

“And I’m realizing that there’s another reason you’re still single,” Michelle says, climbing up and over.

“ _Ouch._ ”

She laughs. “Okay, I’m at the enclosure – how do I get in here?” Damien patiently walks her through the steps of unlocking the terminal; the dull red light on the gate switches to blue, and she pushes past the gate. “Is this the part like in the movies where I say, ‘I’m in’?”

His sigh is so loud that it hurts her ears. “ _The smartass gene must run in the family. Put the phone next to the tower, please…_ ”

“No jokes; got it. So _are_ you single? You didn’t mention it.”

“ _Why would I mention it? You’re not asking me on a date…are you?”_

Michelle is suddenly _very_ glad that she’s not still in the car with him. “Did I say that? I didn’t say that.”

Damien snorts. “ _You haven’t said a lot of things.”_

“Oh, and you _have?_ ” she moves closer to the tower, sliding her thumb across the screen to wake the phone from its sleep state. “And what if I _did_ ask you out?”

There’s a _very_ long pause before he answers. “ _Look… you’re not really my type,”_ Damien says, which immediately pisses her off.

“Excuse me? What the fuck did you just say?”

“ _Why are y- **oh** ,”_ the idiot man says. “ _Not that, I just meant…_ ”

“Meant _what_?” Michelle snaps.

“ _You’re too young for me,”_ Damien says. “ _No offense. Let’s just…get this done, okay?”_

She stares at the tower, and then at the phone with what she’s _sure_ is a dumbfounded expression. Michelle is seeing yet another reason why he’s single…but it _is_ kind of flattering. “How old are _you_?”

“ _Forty-eight_.”

What an idiot, she thinks. “When you remove my biometric data from the system you’ll be able to actually see what it is, right?”

Damien pauses again. “ _Yes_ ,” he answers, drawing it out in a way that lets her know that he’s feeling slightly unsure of himself right about now. 

Good. “Feel free to take a peek,” Michelle says sweetly.

“ _If you say…so…”_ Damien falls silent, no doubt having just accessed her information and viewed her birthdate.

After telling her that she’s free to leave, Damien stays quiet until she reaches the car and gets in. He looks over at her. “You must have a skin-care regimen that’s fucking _insane_.”

“I’m forty-one years old, Damien, not ninety.”

“You look _twenty_ -one.”

“But I have been known to bathe in virgin goat’s blood during the full moon, on occasion,” Michelle teases.

Damien starts the car and looks over at her again, blue eyes gleaming with amusement. “How do you know that the goats are virgins?”

“I ask them first, and hope they’re telling the truth.” They laugh and she buckles her seat belt as Damien pulls into traffic. “I thought you were a nice, normal guy on Monday.”

He grins and checks the mirrors before changing lanes. “Likewise…minus the ‘guy’ part, of course. How do you like Chicago so far?”

Michelle gazes over at him, focusing on those blue eyes and that goatee. There’s just something about him that she could grow to like - a _lot_. “It has its moments.”

“The deal with Jordi…it doesn’t have to be you,” Damien says. “That was mostly just to fuck with him.”

“I don’t mind,” she confesses, and it’s the truth. She’d actually like the opportunity to get to know him better; which reminds her. “I never paid you back.”

“For what?”

“For Monday, at the station.”

They pull into the used car lot, and Damien parks in front of the office before turning off the engine and looking over at her. “Let me take you to dinner.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Michelle says, her heart beating faster at the look in his eyes. Oh, those blue eyes. “It’s my night for bathing in goat’s blood.”

The corners of his mouth curve slightly. “Full moon’s not until tomorrow. If you say no, you’ll never know what it’s like to be seduced during a candlelight meal at Quinkie’s.”

Quinkie’s! Michelle falls back into the seat and laughs until she cries. “You don’t have a candle in here,” she hiccups finally, wiping at her eyes.

“Says you. There’s an electric one in the roadside kit I keep in the trunk.”

She laughs again, looking around the car lot – Jordi’s usual ride is nowhere to be seen, and it doesn’t look like Angelo made it back either. “I need to lock up first, then I’m all yours.”

Damien’s smile deepens. “Are you?”

Michelle doesn’t stop to think it over; she impulsively leans over the arm rest and kisses Damien right on the mouth. Tuesday’s mild ‘fluttery’ feeling has nothing on what happens inside her the moment their lips touch; it’s like her insides have been caught in a tornado. She withdraws slightly, and feels gratified that Damien looks as though he’s just been hit alongside the head. “We’ll see,” she promises.


End file.
